


A Piece Of This Soul

by Magnavox_23



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 05:30:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/618625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnavox_23/pseuds/Magnavox_23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daniel’s dreaming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Piece Of This Soul

“I lost her.”

The voice jolts Daniel awake. He finds himself on the ground in a small tent, not unlike his home on Vis Uban. He is lying on the ground, which is not covered in old woven mats, but soft dry sand. He raises his head from the ground, brushing the sand from the side of his face and hair, taking in his surroundings.

The walls are semi-translucent, the light and heat from outside permeate the structure, warming his body and blinding his eyes at the same time. All he can see is sand, forever.

“I lost her.”

The words are almost a sob now, disembodied nonetheless, but slightly louder than before. 

Daniel pulls himself up from the ground, taking in the blue robes he is now wearing, soft yet heavy against his skin. They wrap around him in layers, a comfort. 

Footfalls on sand are now coming from outside the tent, and Daniel spins around towards the sound – the entrance of the tent and he sees a blurry figure outside, heading right for him. He walks to the entrance himself. Not afraid of the figure, but needing to see their face.

“I lost her!” Martouf screams at him, still moving closer. Daniel steps outside the tent into the bright sun. The sand goes on forever in all directions. No signs of civilisation anywhere.

“I lost her too.” Daniel finds himself replying passively. He knows instantly that they’re not talking about the same woman. This Martouf’s face is twisted in grief. A pain Daniel knows only too well – of losing your other half.

Martouf throws himself down on the sand. Sitting atop the golden grains in an almost childlike manner, gripping handfuls of it, and throwing it angrily back on the ground. Daniel stares at him puzzled for a moment, before joining him on the sand.

Martouf plays with the sand between his fingers for a moment more, before focusing his attention back on Daniel. Daniel wonders why this particular ghost has decided to visit him tonight. “You want to give her a message?” Martouf’s voice is confident and straightforward. A stark contracts to his earlier erratic behaviour.

Daniel regards Martouf, staring into his face – blue eyes, blonde hair. Nothing like his lost love. But then Martouf’s eyes glow in fiery acceptance. Daniel reaches forward to grab the back of Martouf’s neck, bringing his face within inches for a kiss. The lips are wrong, the face is wrong, but Daniel isn’t kissing the man, he is kissing the serpent – a link to his dead wife, even in its obscurity, Daniel revels in the sin.

But then Martouf is pushing him back, and down into the sand. Daniel gives in, letting himself receive his in return. Martouf attacks his jaw and neck with bites and kisses, working his way down to the neckline of Daniel’s robes and back up again. Meanwhile, his hands fumble though the robes, quickly navigating their way through the layers of cloth to find Daniel’s warm skin.

The next thing he knows, Daniel has been de-robed and Martouf is sliding against him. Hips joined, locked together and they rock back and forth. The act itself is not important, but the reconnection of souls, even in this intangible place – a barren land, the wrong face.

Daniel wakes as he comes, wrapped in cooling sheets in his dark bedroom, grit and tears in his eyes. He curls onto his side, trying to gain some of that warmth back.


End file.
